


The Thompson Tit

by i_owe_you_a_bourbon



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_owe_you_a_bourbon/pseuds/i_owe_you_a_bourbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d know that hair anywhere. It was slick, blonde, and immaculate – obviously the result of over-preening. This was the unmistakable crest of the peculiar bird known as the Thompson Tit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thompson Tit

When the automat was particularly crowded and hectic, Angie sometimes liked to play little games with herself to try and make the day more bearable. Today she had decided that every customer was a bird, and she was a bird-watcher, there to observe, report, and not take it personally if the birds tried to peck her eyes out. They were wild animals, after all.

The lady seated by far window was obviously a peacock. If the rich, brightly-coloured clothes weren’t enough of a clue, those extravagantly long feathers in her hat were a dead giveaway. When Angie had come over to try and fix yet another one of this delightful patron’s complaints with the food, the peacock had squawked indignantly at her about how waitresses should take better care of their appearances when they were serving the public.

The kid who was currently running around his table while his mother screamed at him was clearly a parrot. He was clad in hideous green and yellow clothing, and when Angie had gone to take the family’s order, the parrot had proceeded to imitate everything she said and make rude comments about her face until his father had cuffed him in the ear. 

The man who had just left was decidedly a magpie. He’d been an ungrateful jerk, and definitely the type to peck someone’s eyes out if that someone was stupid enough to get too close. There were many different types of birds that were jerks, but the fact that this one had hoarded his shiny coins so closely that he’d left nothing for a tip left little doubt in Angie’s mind that he was a magpie.

Angie didn’t have high hopes as she approached the man in the corner booth. There were, of course, some nice breeds of bird, but in her vast experience a man with hair like that was unlikely to be one of them. The thought stopped her in her tracks. She’d know that hair anywhere. It was slick, blonde, and immaculate – obviously the result of over-preening. This was the unmistakable crest of the peculiar bird known as the Thompson Tit. With a sigh, she finished her journey to the table. “What can I get ya?” she asked, trying to keep the exhaustion and irritation in her voice at what she sincerely hoped was at least a semi-professional level.

The strange bird looked up mild surprise. “You’re Carter’s friend,” he said. “The one with the grandmother. You work here?”

“What clued you in, the uniform or the order pad?” Angie asked. She raised the aforementioned order pad pointedly. “What can I get ya?”

The man chuckled softly. “I’ll have a coffee,” he said.

Angie tucked her order pad away. “Coming right up,” she said, and went off to fetch the coffee pot. She was called upon by three grumpy customers and one woman concerned that maybe coffee was bad for her baby before she managed to make it back to the nest of the Thompson Tit. “Here’s your coffee, sorry for the wait,” she said, pouring him a hasty cup. 

“Not like I’m in a rush,” he said. He pulled the steaming mug towards himself and nodded towards the other automat denizens. “Nice crowd you’ve got here.”

“Trust me, one day working here at this job would make all your mad scientists and espionage seem like a cake walk. I’ve already been stiffed by five people and called ugly by two, and I’ve only been on shift a couple hours.”

The man raised his mug. “I think I’ll stick with the mad scientists,” he decided. He took a sip of coffee.

“Yeah, I bet,” said Angie, flapping a hand in the general direction of his clothing. “Hair and suit like that; I reckon you’d cry if anyone called you ugly.” She sighed and closed her eyes at the sound of someone whistling for her from a few tables down. “That’s my cue, time to exit stage left.” She headed towards her summons. “Say hi to your Gam Gam for me,” she called over her shoulder. 

She didn’t think about the Thompson Tit again until he was gone and she went to clean his table. There, next to his empty coffee mug, was a tip so generous it could easily have covered six people. Angie smiled a little as she tucked it into her pocket.


End file.
